


Mercy, Full

by danaiimonkey



Category: Salem (TV)
Genre: Forced Orgasm, Loss of Control, Masturbation, Non-Consensual, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25536529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danaiimonkey/pseuds/danaiimonkey
Summary: Mercy Lewis' body is under Goody Sibley's diabolical control
Relationships: Mercy Lewis & Reverend Lewis, Mercy Lewis/Mary Sibley
Kudos: 2





	Mercy, Full

It was Mercy's birthday. Her father, Reverend Lewis, had brought her honeycomb and wrapped her mother's wedding dress in a long white velvet ribbon, presenting both to her just after dawn before heading out to proselytize to the fallen women of Knocker's Hole. "My, how Mary will love to see you in her dress. Maybe soon we can give you away to your own husband." 

Mercy fell back to sleep after her father clomped out of their grungy shack. A short time later, Mary Sibley's familiar found Mercy alone, and Mary took control of the teen's unguarded body. Mercy was a passenger in her own skin, able to witness all that she did but powerless to influence it. It began to rain as Mary used Mercy's hands to caress her nipples to hardness, loud taps on the roof as erratic as the girl's quickening breath. She spied the gifts from Reverend Lewis. She untied the bone-white gown, and spread it out on her bed, listening as the rain came down harder. She looped the expensive velvet ribbon around her soft waist, and tied it in an ostentatious bow above her navel.

By the time she laid down on the lacy white dress, holding the honeycomb up above her face so the golden sweetness could drizzle into her mouth, the roaring of the rain on the flat roof drowned out her father's return.

He stood, saturated from the waist up, mud from the waist down, staring at his unmarried teenaged daughter wearing nothing but a strip of white velvet and writhing around on a perfect Puritan woman's wedding dress. His hands balled into fists.

"The Devil is in you, girl," Reverend Lewis growled, his teeth clenched. "You disgrace your sainted mother so." Mary and Mercy stared at the incensed, pious man through the same set of eyes. Mary could feel Mercy's pity for the man, and her confusion and shame at the way he looked at her sometimes. Mary saw his unkempt beard, his threadbare shirt, his mud-caked trousers with the prodigious tent forming at the crotch... and her contempt was eclipsed by her curiosity.

Mary raised Mercy's hand holding the honeycomb, and drizzled the fine thread of golden honey over her nipples, one and then the other, sighing as they crinkled into tight points, sticky and standing an inch from her smooth chest. "Don't be frightened because I am young, and sweet, Father," Mercy's voice crooned to the girl's father. She swiftly slid the dripping honeycomb between her legs, leaving a sticky trail up the girl's slit, before bringing it back up to her mouth and swirling her tongue around the end of it. The Reverend was paralyzed momentarily by rage and shame and fear, but the peak in his pants throbbed his lust.

"If your doting mother saw you as such, not one thousand ice baths could calm her hysteria." Philip Lewis spoke softly. "You are bewitched, girl. I did not want to believe it but my own eyes do not lie." He snatched at the ribbon around her waist, the ribbon meant to adorn her ethereally lovely red hair, intending to snap it and tear it from her gyrating form. It was a strong ribbon, though, and Mercy's starveling frame did not carry enough weight to tear the fabric. Lewis yanked the child from her bed, and her whole upper body flopped against his waist.

A low chuckle bubbled out of the girl's honeyed lips. Mary pushed herself up with Mercy's hands, wrapping them firmly around the branchlike stiffness tenting his trousers. He recoiled instantly from his daughter's grasp, leaving the girl pinwheeling for balance.

The last thought of Mary Sibley's that Mercy heard that day before her face struck the rough floorboards was a wistful one, about how her husband never gets that hard any more.

___________________________________________

It was a long month alone with her father in that musty shack, and that day was not the last time Mary Sibley controlled Mercy Lewis, nor was it her final temptation of Reverend Lewis.

On the last day before Mary Cass, Mercy's mother and Reverend Lewis' good wife, was to return from Boston, Mary Sibley opened Mercy's eyes and looked around her dim corner of the hovel. From somewhere on the other side of the curtain that separated her bed from the rest of the shack, she could hear something that sounded like a man, weeping.

She slid silently from the bed and peered around the privacy curtain. The place was dark, but empty. The door to the only enclosed room in the structure, behind which lay the marriage bed of Philip Lewis and Mary Cass, was closed. The sounds came from there.

Mary crept close to the door, and knelt quietly beneath the knob, peeking through the keyhole.

Reverend Lewis lay flat on his back, both hands cupped around a frothing coil of white fabric over the open fly on his drawers. His hands both moved down as his thin, flexing buttocks thrust upward. Mary smiled.

"Mercy." She said the name silently, inside the girl's mind. Mary wanted her awake for this. "Attention, child!" In full control of Mercy's body, Mary raised her hands and roughly pinched both of her nipples. Alert now, the girl gasped inwardly. Mary moved her fingers to the slit she could already feel moistening, and put her eye back to the keyhole.

Mercy heard her father's low moan, smelled the heavy closeness of the room and saw him humping into the bunched handful of her birthday ribbon. His breathing was labored. "Oh," he said, softly. "Oh God, above. Oh, yes. Oh. Mercy..."

Still on her knees below the doorknob, Mary swiftly pulled the nightdress off over her head. Her elbow bumped the door, which was never properly latched, and it swung open slowly, the top hinge making a long, low metallic rasp. Mary spread Mercy's knees, and looked Reverend Lewis in the eyes.

He was still, frozen in place from the moment the door began its swing until it stopped. In the sudden silence, Philip Lewis let out a shaky sigh. "We are all damned," he said to her. He set the velvet ribbon aside, and spit copiously into one hand. He stared at his naked daughter's stiffly-pointing nipples, her delicate fingers traveling from her sucking mouth to the simmering gash between her virgin labia, and stroked his straining cock.

After several minutes of frantically rubbing the girl's pussy, Mary focused her attention on Mercy's swelling clit. The little nub was stiff and sent lightning strikes through her cunt muscles every time Mary stroked or strummed it. "Oh, God, save me. You wicked harlot," Philip gasped, his hand speeding up on his rod. Mary judged he was about to achieve release, and she had to hurry.

Mercy's breath came in shallow pants, as Mary manipulated her fingers over and over her engorged clit, getting slicker with her juices. That her father was ogling her as he sinned so grotesquely a few feet from her couldn't dampen her arousal at the practiced touches from the witch's possession.

"Forgive me!" Philip Lewis sobbed, pumping his hand as jets of his seed erupted from his abused member. Mary suddenly pinched Mercy's clit hard between her fingers, rolling it as she squeezed.

The girl bucked and barked out an exhausted groan. The violence of her climax ejected Mary from her seat of control, leaving Mercy alone on her knees, naked and ashamed and convulsing with her first ever orgasm, in front of her father. Little mewling gasps dribbled from her parted lips, and she held her fingers stone-still where her clit throbbed against them.

Uncounted minutes later, Philip spoke to his daughter in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. "Go to your bed, girl. I will tell your godly mother of this tomorrow, though it may wreck and ruin her."

Mercy was silent, and kept her eyes averted from her father. She collected her nightdress and rose to her feet, turning her back on him and moved, naked, across the shack. Her knees hurt and her slit felt way too slick, but even through the shock and shame, Mercy knew that it had not been her intention to rouse her father to sin. And while she hadn't an inkling whom the devil was that tormented her, Mercy now knew one way to wrest control away from the invading witch. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work here. please feel welcome to suggest additional tags, as i'm still pretty new at this. ☺


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